


Ficmas 2019 Shorts - Spicy Edition

by Bohemienne



Series: Ficmas 2019 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Ficmas, Ficmas 2019, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: Assorted short fiction for Bohemienne's Ficmas 2019 prompt gifts, the explicit-rated version!Chapter heading will list ship (if applicable) + gift recipient. In effort to keep this from getting too cluttered, additional tags and content warnings will be in the notes at the beginning of each chapter.Please read each chapter's list of tags/CWs carefully as it will vary from chapter to chapter.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Series: Ficmas 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550113
Comments: 35
Kudos: 308





	1. Hubert/Ferdinand - decas

**Author's Note:**

> **Hubert/Ferdinand for decas**
> 
> [Emperor Ferdinand/"Invictus" universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072542)\--Hubert acquires new piercings to surprise his prince.
> 
> _Additional tags:_ piercings, nipple piercings, nipple play, subbert, sub!hubert, dom!ferdinand, D/s dynamics, Prince Ferdinand, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

The heavy fall of riding boots on wood sets Hubert’s heart thudding as well. He is prostrate on the floor of his prince’s room, arms stretched forward, waiting—and at last his master has returned. There is the hiss of an oil lamp being lit. A surprised little huff. Then the boots move closer as Prince Ferdinand approaches him, and they come to rest just before his face.

“So my shadow returns to me after all,” his prince says. A clatter as he sets the lamp down on his nightstand. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”

“My prince.” Hubert is desperate to reach out and cling to those shining black boots—but he has not earned even that humiliation just yet. “I have kept my distance for good reason. For your benefit.” His voice trembles. “And now I come to you, bearing a gift.”

Two, to be precise—but for now, he’s more focused on regaining his prince’s trust.

“A gift?” Ferdinand laughs, harsh. “You think to bribe me into forgiveness? Goodness, pet. I should collar you, remind you where you belong—but I would hate for you to think it some kind of reward.”

“Please, my prince.” Hubert clenches his fists. It was all for your benefit, I swear—”

Ferdinand sighs. Crouches down before him. A white-gloved hand slides around Hubert’s chin and tilts it up from the floor.

“All right, pet. You think this gift is so great?” His amber eyes are burning, and it lights a fire in Hubert’s gut, as well. “Then show me.”

Fingers trembling, Hubert pushes himself upright so he’s sitting on his heels.

The lamplight brushes over his face, his torso, his chest—and snags on the pair of thin gold hoops, one piercing each of his nipples. They are had, tightly furled in the cool air—but healed up enough, now, that he feels ready to show them to his love.

 _I wish I could string you up,_ Ferdinand had purred in his ear, one night a short while ago. Hubert had been on hands and knees before him, sobbing and begging as his prince fucked him, calm and lazy, while touching him everywhere but his cock.

Those roaming hands came to rest on his nipples and twisted, _fierce_ , as he thrust inside him. _Pull a string and watch you squirm._

And suddenly, Hubert could think of nothing _but_.

The way Ferdinand wrapped him up, tied him, leashed him—with leather straps and gold chains—it was begging for more hooks. He wanted to feel pulled apart, dismantled the way he felt by every touch and glance from Ferdinand. He wanted to make himself a _gift_.

And yet it suddenly feels very indulgent and selfish—perhaps he really has made a mistake, and his prince has every right to be furious—

“Oh, my darling.” Ferdinand peels away a glove, and runs his bared thumb down Hubert’s throat. “You did all this for me?” The thumb dips through the crevice of Hubert’s sternum before swirling out along his breast. “Was it not painful?”

“Terribly,” Hubert admits. “But—” His breath catches as Ferdinand’s thumbnail nudges at one of the rings. “I—I enjoyed it all the same.”

“Did you now.” Ferdinand steadies his back with his other hand; traces his nose up Hubert’s chest. “Then you will enjoy this as well, I trust.”

As he pinches one nipple, his mouth slips over the other. With a growl low in his throat, Ferdinand’s tongue works the ring back and forth, the metal pulling exquisitely at Hubert’s tender flesh. He arches back against Ferdinand’s steadying hand with a whimper, savoring the way his whole body feels shrunk into two raw points of flesh as Ferdinand twists and sucks.

“Darling shadow. Thank you.” Ferdinand glances up at him, lower lip still snared on the thin gold ring. “This truly is a gift.”

Heat flushes all over Hubert. “You are pleased?”

“I’ll be even more pleased once you are better healed. I can drape you in heavy chains. String you up for your wickedness, if it pleases me.” He laughs against Hubert’s breast, and tugs at the piercing again with a rough swirl. Hubert cries out, and Ferdinand slips two fingers into Hubert’s mouth. “But for now, I think, I shall give you the attention you must be craving, to do such a thing as this. To suffer for me so.”

Hubert sucks at the offering of fingers with a pleasant hum, tongue lathing each in turn. When Ferdinand withdraws them, he says, “I would bear any suffering for you.”

“I know you would.” Wet fingers skim down his spine and nudge between firm cheeks. “But the only suffering I ever intend you to bear is bound to please us both.”

And in his prince’s arms, teeth scraping at oversensitive nipples, fingers breaking him just right, he has never been safer in his pain.


	2. Hubert/Ferdinand - MikaHaruka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hubert/Ferdinand - ZaraMikazuki**
> 
> Ferdinand getting off to the scent of Hubert's clothing.
> 
>  **Additional tags:** voyeurism, masturbation, Ferdinand's villainsexual kink, anal fingering, established relationship, Hubert's Gloves of Topping (and Murder)

Ferdinand knows he’s been spoiled these past few months. Since he and Hubert first began sleeping together, he’s hardly spent a single night alone. True, they are not— _amorous_ —every night, and there have been no few times he’s had to forcibly carry the overworked minister from his writing desk to bed, ignoring his barely-conscious protests. But in the end, every night, Hubert has been _here_ , beside him, a solid presence, warming cold hands against Ferdinand’s warm thighs and softening his edges into Ferdinand’s embrace.

So when tonight Hubert regretfully informed him he would have to work—the kind of dark, grim work for Her Majesty, Ferdinand suspects, that he must never ask about and Hubert will not speak of—Ferdinand is finding it disorienting.

He’s tried wrapping his arms around a pillow, but the fluffy lumps can hardly approximate the man he thinks of (with all due affection) as being made of knives. He’s pressed his face to the pillow on the side of the bed where Hubert sleeps, and while he is able to glean something of Hubert’s dark, roasted scent from the pillow that way, it isn’t the same as being enveloped in his warmth. For all his prickliness, Hubert’s presence is a comfort, a weighty blanket Ferdinand wants to wrap himself in and feel bound by.

Which is what finally gives him the idea to pad over to the wardrobe where Hubert keeps his uniform.

Hubert left for the night in something quite different from the formal clothing he wears—dark trousers, dark tunic, dark boots, dark gloves. His daytime wear, however, is hanging up to air out for him to don it again the next day. But as Ferdinand leans in to the wardrobe, he smells the spice of Hubert’s soap, the acrid bite of coffee, the saucy little hint of the cologne Ferdinand bought him and that he wears _very_ sparingly (but wears nonetheless).

Ferdinand tilts his head to the side; takes hold of the heavy velvet and satin of Hubert’s cape. Presses his nose into its folds and breathes in with a wicked grin.

Perfect.

Ferdinand shrugs out of his own sleeping shirt and fastens the cape around his shoulders. The many buckles on it used to vex him, but he’s got quite good at unfastening them in a hurry of late. Now, the satin glides soothingly against Ferdinand’s bare skin as he swishes the cape from side to side around him. He turns his head into the stiff, high collar and inhales, letting the scent of _Hubert_ fill him, then lets out a happy sigh.

Cape pulled snug around him, he slips back into Hubert’s bed and settles in, warmth and cool satin and heaviness swaddling him.

But now he has the scent of Hubert all over him, the sensual fabric rubbing against his flesh, and yet Hubert is _not_ here—but his body seems quite oblivious to that fact, conditioned as it is, apparently, by that enticing scent . . .

Ferdinand whimpers, unable to ignore his erection growing against his thighs. Oh, goddess, he’s probably smearing sticky threads against the inside of Hubert’s cape. He hastily unfurls the cloak from around him and grabs hold of his cock, but his cursed brain supplies a very enticing image of Hubert unwrapping him and seizing hold of him instead—

 _Oh._ And wouldn’t that be a lovely feeling. Hubert returning from his dark business, smelling much like this cloak but with an underlining of sweat and perhaps blood or poison, his pulse racing from whatever wickedness he’s been carrying out, ravenous to unleash his restless energy on Ferdinand with a hungry abandon—

And, well—if Ferdinand is going to have to get the cape cleaned for him now anyway—

Ferdinand fumbles around in their nightstand’s drawer until he finds the bottle of oil within and pours a generous amount onto his right hand. He stretches out on his back, but tilts his hips upward, legs bent, and teases slippery fingers against the cleft of his ass. And while he quite enjoys sitting on top of Hubert (a natural equestrian, Hubert teases) or pulling a snarling, moody Hubert into his own lap, now Ferdinand can’t shake the image of Hubert holding him down, closing a black-gloved fist around his throat, fucking him with a murderous glint in his cold eyes and a wicked grin baring his sharp teeth just before he bites into Ferdinand’s shoulder—

Ferdinand cries out, far louder than he means to, as he pushes one slick finger into his hole, and tries to relax around it, though his whole body feels bound up and frantic with the images of his dark, dangerous lover. He shudders as his finger pushes deeper, wails as it strikes against a hard knot of overwhelming pleasure right in his core.

Ferdinand twists his head to catch another whiff of Hubert on the cape’s collar, then bites down on its hem to stifle his moan as he adds a second finger to the first.

 _Such a wicked man deserves to be punished,_ Hubert might hiss into his ear, or maybe I _t’s time to pay for your crimes_. Hubert would be cruel, relentless as he pounded into Ferdinand, his pace bruising. _Such a bad boy you are, von Aegir, in need of a good fucking—_

“Fuck,” Ferdinand hisses around the mouthful of fabric, thrusting two fingers in and out of himself, his cock dripping heavy onto his own stomach. “Fuck me, Hubert, please . . .”

There is a noise in the darkness of the room, and Ferdinand freezes. Oh, goddess. Has some attacker made it into their room, ready to take revenge on the emperor’s shadow, or strike a blow to the prime minister? Ferdinand’s muscle clenches tight around his fingers as he waits—

“Oh, Ferdie.” A sliver of Hubert’s face emerges from the darkness, outlined in moonlight. “Please, don’t let me interrupt such a delicious sight.”

Ferdinand lets out his breath and goes limp, legs slipping. “You are back.”

Hubert grabs Ferdinand by one ankle; straightens the leg out with his leather-clad hand. “I attended to my business as quickly as I could.” He grazes his cheek, stubbly from the long day, against the inside of Ferdinand’s calf with a weary sigh. “I didn’t wish to be away from you any longer than strictly necessary.”

Ferdinand swallows. Should he acknowledge what he had been doing, his current state? Maybe Hubert hasn’t noticed yet. “I—I missed you.”

Hubert laughs darkly against Ferdinand’s skin as he kisses down past his knee, then nips at his thigh. “I can tell.” He mouths lower; draws Ferdinand’s skin in with a forceful suck and scrape of teeth. “I missed you, too.”

Ferdinand sighs. That sinful mouth of Hubert’s is doing nothing to slow his frantic heart—

“If I’d known just what I was missing, I would never have left.”

Hubert’s other hand closes around Ferdinand’s own as he climbs onto the mattress, and-- _oh_. Ferdinand whines as a rough, leathery finger teases around his hole.

“Do you want me, love?” Hubert asks, and mouths at his thigh again. “Do you want me to fuck you while you’re wrapped up in my cloak?”

“ _Please,_ ” Ferdinand keens.

Hubert lets out a shaky breath; his hand retreats to shove down his own breeches. “I think I like it even better on you than me.”

With a snarl, he thrusts the head of his cock into Ferdinand, and Ferdinand has to concede—there is simply no substitute for the man himself.


	3. Claude/Lorenz - erebones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Claude/Lorenz - erebones**
> 
> Lorenz visits Claude in Almyra to "negotiate."
> 
> Thank you to my emotional support orcboy **losebetter** for betaing!!!
> 
>  **Additional tags:** trans!claude, oral sex, pegging (implied)

Lorenz shoves Claude square in his chest, and with a dramatic sigh, he topples back onto the mountain of cushions in the corner of his room. “Hey, now. You’re lucky Almyran décor is as comfortable as it is.”

“Shut up, von Riegan.” Lorenz grabs him by the hemmed collar of his rough silk tunic, gold embroidery crinkling under his grasp. Their mouths find each other, and with a laugh, Claude draws Lorenz’s tongue into him, hands on his hips, tugging him down with him onto the cushions.

“Yes, well.” Lorenz kisses the corner of his mouth, then glides ringed hands lower, down Claude’s abdomen, then up the baggy pants shrouding his thighs. “I will admit you look very much at home here.” Lorenz kisses his throat. “Bejeweled.” He teases his fingers between Claude’s thighs. “Bathed in moonlight through the stone latticework . . .”

“A lot of pretty words for someone who claimed they came here to talk politics—ohh.” Claude’s words dissolve as Lorenz’s fingers stroke at him through thick fabric. “Um. Is this how they teach you to conduct diplomacy back in Fódlan—”

“Shut up, Claude,” Lorenz growls, slipping his knees between Claude’s.

“Because really, I need to have a word with von Aegir about their diplomatic strategy—starting with _Thank you_ —”

“Shut _up_ ,” Lorenz says again, and this time, he drops onto his stomach, grabbing the waistband of Claude’s pants to tug them down his hips. Once they’re halfway down his thigh, Lorenz slots himself under one of Claude’s legs and nibbles at the inside of his thigh, soft powdered skin and musky scent and the spicy smell of incense burning in the nearby lamps. He exhales, heavy, breath gusting over Claude’s folds, and relishes the taste of his thigh once more before nibbling and inching his way closer.

“Goddess, I missed you,” Lorenz murmurs, then traces his tongue around the edge of Claude’s lips, savoring the sweetly sour taste of his cum. “Every part of you.”

Claude’s back arches as Lorenz finds his clit and laves his tongue against it. “Yeah, I’m kinda—getting that impression.”

Lorenz hums against him; draws him into his mouth for a forceful suck, savoring the way Claude’s sturdy thighs grip at his face in response. He glances up at his wicked prince—resplendent, sprawled out, completely at home in Almyra, a delighted grin on his lips, and not nearly as unraveled as Lorenz wants him. Hmmph. He must be out of practice.

But now they have weeks and weeks of negotiations to catch up on, and relearn themselves . . .

“Shit,” Claude hisses, as Lorenz’s tongue teases against him, pushing just enough inside of him to make him squirm. “Lor. So impatient—I haven’t even given you your welcoming gift . . .”

Lorenz looks up, mouth still closed around him, and arches one delicate brow.

“Mm. Thought you couldn’t resist.” With a pleased murmur, Claude grabs a fistful of Lorenz’s hair and tugs, guiding him back up. Lorenz reluctantly complies, but in return, he thrusts his tongue into Claude’s mouth, making sure he tastes himself there—that finest of delicacies Lorenz has been craving for far too long.

“I know how you like to be spoiled.” Claude brushes his fingers along Lorenz’s spine over his traveling tunic, then grazes them lower, lower, until he’s teasing at the top of Lorenz’s ass. With a dark look, he seizes hold of it and grips it tight, pressing Lorenz up against him, and Lorenz cries out.

 _Fuck_ , he’s missed his brilliant, confident love.

“Go on. Take a look.” Claude tilts his chin toward a wrapped box beside him. “Then I want you to get ready for me.”

“I’m ready _now_ ,” Lorenz whines.

There’s a dark sparkle in Claude’s emerald eyes. “Not for this, babe.”

With a groan, Lorenz pushes up onto his hands and reaches for the box. When he opens it with trembling fingers, his mouth rounds in a hungry ‘Oh.’

Claude, still gripping Lorenz by his hair, wrenches his face back to his. “I may not win the negotiations,” he murmurs, breath tickling down Lorenz’s long neck, “but I’m gonna make sure you get fucked all the same.”

Lorenz bites his lower lip to stifle a cry. “I look forward to it, my prince.”


	4. Hubert/Ferdinand - anon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hubert/Ferdinand - anon**
> 
> Subbert with a collar.
> 
>  _Additional tags:_ Light bondage, slapping, pet play, anal plugs, anal sex, humiliation kink, negotiated kink, church sex, top!ferdinand, bottom!hubert, bottombert, subbert, Dom!ferdinand, sub!hubert, Bottombert Monday

A rough tug on the leather lead pulls Hubert up short, and he turns toward Ferdinand with a fierce snarl. “Do not jerk me around like some rabid animal.”

Ferdinand only smiles in response. “Is that not what you are? A vicious hound in need of taming.” Another jerk of the leash, and Hubert stumbles toward Ferdinand, where he’s seated himself on the bishops’ pews behind what’s left of the cathedral altar. “A wicked creature.” Ferdinand grips Hubert by the chin and holds him still, even as he squirms. “A vile, filthy thing.”

Hubert’s jaw clenches. “And what? You’ve brought me here to repent? I don’t fear your dead, worthless goddess. And I certainly don’t fear _you_ —”

Ferdinand slaps him hard across the mouth, and Hubert hisses, head twisting to one side. Ferdinand sucks in his breath—a little afraid of himself—and pauses, waiting. Searching for a sign he’s overstepped, listening for Hubert to utter their halting word. But instead, Hubert only turns back to him with a harsh laugh, teeth bared.

“Oh, little dukeling, it’s going to take so much more than that if you want me tamed.”

Ferdinand lets out his breath with a shaky smile. Of course—he should’ve known. When Hubert first confessed all the ways he wished for Ferdinand to treat him at times, it was like unstoppering a fine vintage of fantasies and yearnings that had been aging on the shelf for years. Scold him, shame him, berate him, break him—rub his nose in his own filth, like a disobedient beast. Make him surrender control in all the ways he can never allow himself to do in their daytime life, no matter how he tries. And while it took Ferdinand a bit to accustom to, he is nothing if not eager to conquer any challenge—especially one that rewards him so handsomely for his hard work.

But _handsome_ isn’t what his pet wants to hear just now. Ferdinand seizes a fistful of Hubert’s bang and holds it back from his face so he can look him in both eyes.

“I’ve brought you here,” he says, “to remind you of your place. My cruel little hound, rattling the gates of heaven. You’ve accomplished great things, pet—for your emperor, for yourself, for me. But ultimately, your place is on the end of a leash.”

“Is it? Just try setting me loose, let’s see what happens—”

Ferdinand seizes him by the neck and shoves his face down, until his cheek presses into the cold, shattered tiles. Hubert’s hands, bound behind him, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, flex and strain futilely.

“Fuck you,” Hubert growls. “I will not be broken.”

Ferdinand nudges Hubert’s thighs apart, and kneels down between his bent legs. Traces one palm over the curve of Hubert’s slender ass before he yanks his breeches down to his thighs. “Will you not? You look plenty breakable to me just now.” He nibbles at one pale cheek. “Oh, pet, I fear my cock might just _shatter_ you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself so—”

Hubert’s sneers abruptly dissolve, however, into a whimper as Ferdinand nudges at the round steel loop protruding from Hubert’s hole. Ferdinand smirks, and makes a show of attempting to ease it out, without actually moving it any way but back and forth as Hubert shudders and thrashes.

“I’m sorry, little lapdog. You were saying something?”

“Fuck,” Hubert seethes. “You bastard . . .”

“Ahh, have we finally found what will bring you to heel?” Ferdinand reaches into his trouser pocket and draws out a vial of scented oil, then dribbles a few drops down the seam of Hubert’s ass. “Maybe you are so grumpy because I have made you wear this too long. Is that the problem, pet?”

“You don’t _make_ me do anything.”

Ferdinand arches one eyebrow; gives the leash another gentle tug. “Do I not?”

—And then he twists the plug’s handle again before slowly, painstakingly easing it out.

Hubert keens incoherently at that, face smooshed down into the filthy tile. Strands of precum drip from his cock onto the floor, Ferdinand notices with a pleased smile. As much as he’d love to lap it away, Ferdinand has other plans for his love.

“This nice, slutty hole of yours tells a very different story, pet.” Ferdinand drizzles more oil onto him, and gathers it up, pushes it into Hubert’s puffy red hole with one finger. A second. “It looks to me like you are aching for my cock to fill you up.”

Hubert sobs as Ferdinand’s fingers twist inside of him; his fingers curl on nothingness. As Ferdinand thrusts a third finger into him, he cries out. “Please. Please, Ferdie. I’ve been so patient—I’ll behave, I swear it—”

“No, you won’t, darling.” Ferdinand slips his fingers out, and fumbles with the fastenings on his own trousers; shoves them down to his knees. “But I look forward to you trying all the same.”

And as he seats himself inside Hubert, clutching knobby hips as Hubert begs and moans, he knows: his rabid dog can always be tamed.


	5. Edelgard/Dorothea - anon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edelgard/Dorothea - anon**
> 
> For the prompt: flirty teasing.
> 
> _Additional tags:_ vaginal fingering, established relationship, pet names, semi-public sex

“Macuil’s tits,”Dorothea says, “how many layers of petticoat does a person _need_?”

Edelgard glances up at her from where she’s sucking at Dorothea’s breast and teases her with a healthy scrape of teeth before popping her mouth away. “As many as it takes, apparently.”

Dorothea shudders, as much from the feel of Edelgard’s mouth on her as the sight of the emperor’s bright red lip paint now smeared all over her own face and Dorothea’s breast. Probably Dorothea’s dress, too, as much as she tried to tug it down. Their private carriage jolts over a pothole, tossing Edelgard’s face back into her bosom, and they both giggle.

“Look at us. Groping around in a carriage like naughty schoolgirls,” Edelgard says, before rounding her mouth on Dorothea’s collarbone.

“Well, who knows how long you’re going to drag out this stupid reception. I’m not waiting _hours_ to get you to myself.”

Dorothea leans down, and nudges Edelgard’s mouth back to hers for a hasty kiss—her sweet honey taste laced with berries and the wine they drank while preparing for their evening out. An hour to get ready for this stupid reception, and barely five minutes to undo it all.

With a laugh, Dorothea renews her mission to dig through the endless tiers of underskirts as Edelgard kisses back up her chest, her neck, underneath her jaw—

“O-oh.” A most unmajestic noise draws Edelgard up short as Dorothea _finally_ catches her nails on a dense, well-muscled thigh. She brushes one finger back and forth, chasing that thigh up higher with a wicked grin. “There you are, princess.”

As she traces the lacy seam of silk panties, already damp, Edelgard doesn’t even bother to correct her, and Dorothea knows she’s winning this round.

“Dorothea—careful—”

“Or what, Edie?” She spreads her index and middle finger into a V and traces the outside of Edelgard’s folds. Her nose nudges against Edelgard’s ear as she flicks a tongue against the teardrop earrings she wears. “Afraid you’re going to spend the whole reception dirty and spent? I think it’s a little late for that, princess.”

Edelgard whimpers, curling against her, and the noise is so sweet and delicious Dorothea doesn’t even mind the scrape of golden horns against her cheek.

“That’s it, princess.” Dorothea pries her wet panties over to one side and slips her fingers into Edelgard’s sticky heat beneath them. “You’re allowed to have some fun now and then, too.”

“Your constant _teasing_ is hardly what I’d call fun—”

Edelgard cuts herself off with another moan, throatier this time, as Dorothea finally grazes one finger over her clit. She circles, careful, not quite touching it again—then pushes right against Edelgard’s hole before dragging her finger all the way to the tip.

“Dammit, Dorothea. That’s not even fair—”

“I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a tease.” Dorothea kisses her temple. “I mean every bit of it, Edie-girl.”

She presses harder, rubbing back and forth, just the way she knows her princess loves. Edelgard’s thighs clench hard against her hand as she grips tighter onto Dorothea’s gown, her cries both obnoxiously refined and wonderfully unhinged—

“Dor, _fuck_ —”

Dorothea kisses the crown of her head as Edelgard claws at her, swears dissolving into wordless sighs, clit hot and pulsing against Dorothea’s fingers as she cums. She trembles in Dorothea’s arms, and damn if all she can think is how beautiful she looks like this, delicate and strong, regally composed and completely undone.

And Dorothea wouldn’t have her any other way.

“That’s my princess.” Once Edelgard’s climax subsides, Dorothea tips her up by her chin, gazes into those violet eyes, glassy and wide. Then she kisses her, gently enough to let Edelgard let her know when she’s ready for more.

“Damn.” Edelgard gives a shaky laugh as their mouths part. “I don’t know how you manage to amaze me every time . . .”

“You make it worth the effort.” Dorothea grins; kisses the tip of her nose. “Although, uh . . . it might take a monumental effort to clean that lipstick off your face, princess.”

Edelgard laughs and slumps against the cushion. “I’m sure Hubert can figure out something to cover it up.”

“Not judging by the way Ferdie’s neck looks lately, he can’t.” Dorothea smirks. “And they think they’re sneaky.”

Edelgard arches one eyebrow at her. “And? So do we.”

“Oopsie.” Dorothea leans over her; traces a slow circle on the inside of her thigh. “Speaking of sneaky, though . . . How long until we get to the reception hall, again?”

Edelgard whimpers, thigh tensing under her touch. “You’re insatiable, Dor.”

Dorothea kisses her cheek again. “I just like to press my luck.”


	6. Hubert/Ferdinand - jano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hubert/Ferdinand - jano**
> 
> "Public teasing"
> 
> (There's more than teasing. Happy Bottombert Monday!)
> 
> _Additional tags:_ Public sex, semi-public sex, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex (implied), top!ferdinand, bottom!hubert, light D/s dynamics, dom!ferdinand, sub!hubert, subbert, bottombert, bottombert monday

Hardly ten minutes of the parade have passed before Ferdinand begins growing restless on the balcony beside him. “This is goddess-damned interminable. How many more carts must we watch roll past?”

“There’s a whole hour’s worth of processional,” Hubert says, trying not to let it wound his pride. “You do realize I was in charge of organizing this parade?”

“Ah. Then you know exactly how long this will take.” Ferdinand brushes the backs of his gloved fingers at the small of Hubert’s back, pulling a shiver out of Hubert like he’s caressing a harpstring. “And you are aware, I’m sure, that the grand citizens of our empire can scarcely even _see_ us up on this balcony, what with all the red bunting.” Ferdinand toes said bunting with his boot. “Why, no one would even notice if we were not here at all.”

“I have a duty to oversee this.” Hubert frowns. “As Minister of the Imperial—”

Ferdinand’s fingers graze lower to draw him up short, darting beneath Hubert’s cape, beneath the tails of his suitcoat, tracing the cleft of Hubert’s slender ass over his trousers. “Darling, I am well aware of your lofty ranking.” He curls his fingers inward with a rough scrape. “Just as you are well aware that as I am the _prime_ minister, you must submit to my authority.”

Hubert’s muscles clench, as much from his love’s rough, low tenor as from his probing touch. “And how do you intend for me to submit?”

Ferdinand turns his head, nosing at the shell of Hubert’s ear as he slides his hand around his waist. “You just have to stand right here. Smile and wave at your lovely little parade.” Ferdinand spreads his fingertips wide across the front of Hubert’s trousers, and Hubert swallows back a cry as he brushes over Hubert’s stirring cock. Flames, this man has him so well-conditioned, concealing so many wicked thoughts and deeds behind that sweet, easy smile of his and genial tone. “You have already worked so hard. Let me take care of you.”

Hubert bites his lower lip as Ferdinand sinks down beside him, vanishing behind the red velvet banners draping over the balcony. A crowd rises from far below, some void-forsaken pastoral tumbling act, nothing he gives a damn about as sharp teeth sink into the meat of his rump and hands snake up the front of his thighs. “Ferdie . . .”

“Shush, you.” Ferdinand manages to work open the fastenings on Hubert’s trousers, and tugs them down all the way to his shins, the tops of his sock garters exposed to crisp fall air. “You are so terrible at relaxing, love.” He returns satin-gloved fingers to Hubert’s ass and gently kneads each half in one palm before gently prying them apart, nudging Hubert’s stance wider as he does. “But I am certainly going to need you to relax for this.”

Hubert bites down on a cry as Ferdinand kisses the seam of his ass and flicks his tongue along it. Bracing himself on the balcony railing, he tries to focus on the fleet of dancers trouncing through the streets below as the prime minister licks and nibbles just outside of his hole. “Ferdie,” Hubert murmurs.

Ferdinand’s tongue flattens against him, so wet and warm, so tantalizingly close, before he retracts it. “Should I stop, darling?”

Hubert tenses—then forces himself to unclench. “Absolutely not.”

Ferdinand laughs, then plunges the tip of his tongue into Hubert, pushing and stretching at him, peeling a sharp cry from Hubert’s lips. He quickly tries to rearrange his face into his usual somber appearance, but as Ferdinand’s teeth make quick little stabs at the entrance to his hole, as his tongue flicks in and up, striking like a flint against that sensitive node inside Hubert— _fuck_ , it gets harder and harder to contain his feral urge to growl, to wrench Ferdinand by his hair, to beg him to fuck him properly—

Then Ferdinand’s tongue retreats to swirl around his cleft for a moment. It’s replaced, with a swiftness that makes Hubert nearly jump, by an oil-slick finger that curves quick and brutally upward, and Hubert nearly doubles over the balcony with a cry.

“Now, Minister Vestra.” Ferdinand bites at the inside of one of his thighs, then follows the bite with a swift kiss. “I thought you needed to pay attention to your little parade.”

“You are incorrigible—hrngh,” Hubert cuts himself off, as Ferdinand begins to pump two fingers in and out of him at a brutal pace. “Ferdie, please—”

“Please what, handsome? Is there something more you want?” Ferdinand asks. He bites the underside of Hubert’s ass where it curves into his thigh and sucks hard, then slowly kisses his way up to the small of his back as he pulls himself to his feet. “You are going to have to tell me if so. I would so hate to disrupt you if you are otherwise occupied.”

Leaving two fingers pressed firmly inside Hubert, he snakes his other arm back around Hubert’s waist, and kisses the nape of his neck, breath tickling the hairs along Hubert’s neck with his breath. Hubert squeezes his eyes shut and tries to steady himself; he knows he should be paying far better attention to the parade, but, damn it all, they are obscured up here, and his work is done—

“Oh, void’s sake, just fuck me already,” Hubert grits out, as Ferdinand twists his fingers inside of Hubert again.

“Oh, darling.” With a rustle of fabric, Ferdinand unfastens his own trousers. Hubert shudders and whimpers as he feels the head of Ferdinand’s cock nudging against his slick hole. “I thought you would never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> [@Bohemienne6](http://twitter.com/Bohemienne6)


End file.
